(A man walks into our police department and approaches the dispatch counter.)

Me: “Hello, how can I help you?”

Man: “I was just at a yard sale and bought a nice wood trunk, but when I got it home I looked inside and it was full of dynamite. It looks old and unstable.”

Me: “And where is it now?”

Man: “It’s in the back of my truck.”

Me: “Okay, and where is your truck?”

Man: “Outside in your parking lot!”

(And that was how our police department ended up getting evacuated for three hours. He parked, of all places, next to the supervisor’s brand new personal truck. Thankfully, it was found to be dummy training dynamite!)

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(While working at the convenience store, I notice an older male customer, who is clearly intoxicated, put three single beer cans down his shirt. The shirt is tucked in, so the beers are very obviously hanging out of his shirt. I intercept him as he tries to make his way to the door. Caught red-handed, he drunkenly holds out a handful of cash.)

Customer: “Hey how much do I have?”

Me: “You have three dollars, but you also have three beers down your shirt. Now give them back, please.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: *pokes at a beer can in his shirt* “You have three beers down your shirt, and we need those back now.”

Customer: “Oh. Okay.” *hands me two of the beers*

Me: “What about the third beer, man?”

Customer: “What beer?”

(I poke the can under his shirt.)

Me: “This one. We need that one back, too. Now.”

Customer: “Oh, okay…” *hands beer back* “Can I buy some beer now?”

Me: “You just tried to steal from us! H*** no, you can’t buy any beer! Now get out!”

Customer: *meekly leaves*

(I serve people their orders when they’re ready. If they’re old, a child, or otherwise seemingly unable to carry their tray, I’m required to offer assistance. On this day, an elderly man orders his food.)

Me: “Do you need any help carrying that?”

Elderly Customer: “Do I LOOK like I need help?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I’m required to offer help to people.”

Elderly Customer: “Is this something that Obama is making you do?! D*** socialist!”

Me: “N-no, sir… it’s the policy here.”

Elderly Customer: “Well, I don’t need no d*** assistance!” *storms off with food*

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Receptionist: “Hi, this is (company). May I direct your call?”

Caller: “Yeah, I need to speak to Rhonda.”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, but we don’t have anyone here by that name.”

Caller: “RHONDA! RHONDA! I need to talk to Rhonda!”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there is no one here named Rhonda. What department were you trying to reach?”

Caller: “The newsletter girl! I want to talk to Rhonda!”

Receptionist: “Oh, Sue is in charge of the newsletters. I can transfer you to her right now.”

Caller: “Why did she change her name?!”

(I’m the girl whose friend is not a Slim Jim. It’s been a busy evening, so when I finally get a free minute, I grab a cleaning rag and go to wipe down the counter near the soda fountains. As I’m walking from behind the counter, a customer walks in, followed closely by Jim.)

Me: *turning to go back behind the counter* “Good evening! How—”

Customer: “Yeah, you just thought you were getting a break, b****!”

(At this point, Jim scowls but doesn’t say anything. After the man makes his purchase, Jim taps him on his shoulder. The guy turns and shrinks back when he sees that Jim is scowling with his arms crossed over his chest. The guy’s head is about level with Jim’s nose and he’s only half as broad.)

Jim: “What did you just call this young lady?”

Customer: “I… uh… I said that she… uh… is a very nice young lady. Beautiful, too.”

Jim: “That’s what I thought.”

Customer: *slinks around Jim and darts out the door* “Have a good night, gorgeous!”